Reader Warning:
This scene contains sexual content and adult themes. It is not suitable for younger audiences.
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Tenebrarum's hand drifted downward.
It was unbearably, his every movement deliberate.
His touch skimmed along her thigh, tracing upward with a slow, claiming pressure that pulled a sharp breath from her chest.
Aurelia muscles tensed as if she meant to pull away, but her body betrayed her, leaning into the heat of him as though drawn by something older than choice.
Her fingers curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She didn't understand why she was responding like this—why her pulse jumped every time his hand moved an inch higher, why her breath trembled as her hips tilted closer to him.
"Stopppp,"She groaned , her teeth bitting her lip, trying to steady herself from failing miserably.
Her gown shifted when she moved, opening just enough for the air to touch her skin. She didn't know if she lifted it consciously or if it happened because her legs refused to stay still near him.
He didn't give her time to think.
With a swift, merciless motion, Tenebrarum spun her. Her breath punched out of her as her chest collided with the wall, his hand splayed between her shoulder blades to hold her there.
The impact stole her voice, leaving only a broken sound caught in her throat.
Heat rolled off her in waves. Sweat traced down the curve of her spine, gathering at the small of her back. Her knees trembled.
She felt his fingers working at her corset, untying the knots with a slow, controlled precision that made her entire body tense, waiting—unable to pull away, unable to understand why she didn't want to.
Aurelia gasped as the last piece of fabric slipped away, heat crawling over her skin.
She was—
Naked.
She felt the wall cold against her back, his body burning against the front of hers — a clash of temperature that made her shiver.
Tenebrarum's breath dragged low and rough past her ear as he lifted her, the strength in his arms making her pulse race.
She clung to him without meaning to what she was doing, fingers digging into his shoulders, trying to steady herself as he pressed her to the wall with a force that stole the air from her chest.
Her virgina was hot , acting like it was ready for him to dive in.
His lower clothing was already unbuckled.
And her legs were firmly around him, even though her bandaged leg still hurted . She continued,
What the heck was she doing?
Was she ready to give her virginity to the demon prince?
But the Aurelia hated him, the more she wanted this, she wanted him deep where her eyes could not go.
The moment he pulled her closer — too close — something inside her snapped tight as he went in.
His Cork went deep.
It was first pain. Sharp. Bright. A shock that made her nails scrape against the stone.
Then it went deeper, heavier, rolling through her body in a way she couldn't make sense of.
Little blood stain marks between her thighs.
But instead of pausing, he went in harder , and harder, he didn't stop as sweat dripped from his body to hers.
Her legs trembled as she braced herself, palms flat against the wall, breath breaking into uneven sounds she couldn't swallow.
Each movement was rougher, better, a rhythm she couldn't fight even when she tried to twist away — and yet her body betrayed her at every turn, heat and sweat curling beneath her skin until she didn't know where the pain ended and something else began.
Her first time, and she was drowning in sensations she had no language for.
Aurelia's breath trembled. Her body was still reeling, overwhelmed, hungry in ways she didn't understand.
Every nerve felt awake, burning beneath her skin, and she found herself leaning into him again — not out of fear this time, but something far more dangerous.
She wanted closeness.
Contact.
She wanted to feel him against her in a way that stole the strength from her knees.
She wanted his mouth on every part of her skin, his presence wrapped around her, anything that could answer the wild rush inside her.
But the mask stayed in place.
It hid his expression, his intentions, everything she desperately needed to read.
She reached up without thinking, fingers brushing the edges of the cold metal, her pulse racing at the thought of what might be underneath.
"My lord," a voice quivered, almost swallowed by the shadows.
Who had dared step into Tenebrarum's chambers without a signal, without warning, without even a trace of permission?
Camilla's heels clicked softly on the marble floor, betraying her presence.
Camilla was breathtaking. Her blunt hair framed her face perfectly, moving like liquid with every step.
Her eyes were a striking blue, sharp and unreadable, and her lips a soft, confident pink.
There was something in her posture, the tilt of her chin, the way she carried herself—a quiet authority, a presence that made her feel like a queen even before the crown rested on her head.
She was the crowned princess, the one meant to be at Tenebrarum's side, yet here she stood like a shadow herself—small, brittle, and watching.
She had just seen him with another woman. Again. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. Her stomach tightened, a familiar ache of resentment and resignation curling inside her. She had learned to expect this—the stolen touches, the whispered names, the way he could look at anyone and still leave her heart hollow.
Her hands clutched the folds of her gown. She hated that it trembled under her fingers. Camilla hated that her pulse raced.
"Leave Flavia," he said removing him self from her , pushing Aurelia aside like she was nothing.
She stumbled, falling to the cold floor.
Her white hair was scattered on the floor.
Her eyes still filled with disbelief.
Was this a hallucination? Had she imagined every moment of closeness, every whispered word? Tenebrarum—Tenebrarum—was throwing her out, after everything she thought they shared.
"Get out!" His voice cut through her, sharp and unyielding. There was no jest this time. No playful cruelty. This was absolute, final.
Aurelia scrambled to her feet, the torn black fabric of her dress clinging to her like a second skin, heavy with shame. Her chest heaved, every heartbeat a drum of disbelief. How could he—Tenebrarum—push her away like this, after everything she had thought they shared?
Her legs wobbled as she stepped back, eyes wide, mind refusing to accept the reality before her. The room seemed to tilt, the air thick with his presence, sharp and unyielding. She wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, to lash out—but she had no words, no power.
Every step away from him felt like a public unmasking, as if the world had seen her—vulnerable, exposed, utterly powerless. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she forced herself to keep moving, swallowed by a mix of fear, humiliation, and a disbelief that threatened to shatter her.
She obeyed. She had to.
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To be continued...